


Moon On The Water

by robynthemagpie_writes



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley Created the Stars (Good Omens), Crowley cries, Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Dream Angel, Dream Demon, Emotional Crowley (Good Omens), Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, PTSD symptoms, Panic Attacks, Podfic Available, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Soft Start, there will be sexy time at some point so watch out for more tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-28 11:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20777753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robynthemagpie_writes/pseuds/robynthemagpie_writes
Summary: They got away with it- just. But as Aziraphale and Crowley regroup in the aftermath of the Notpocalypse and their miraculous escapes in the Swap, for the first time in millennia they must now face up to their own- and each others- feelings. It starts, as it will end, with a dream...





	1. Part I: Sea Dreams and Heart Seams

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Back for a more traditional fic this time. This was originally inspired by a song which popped up in my playlist by Passenger called "Moon On The Water' hence the title. I had so much fun writing the first part and remembered how great their music is, so I decided to go trawling through and find more inspiration to make it a Trilogy. Would highly recommend checking out the music along the way to see where my head was whilst writing. I am aiming to produce a piece of artwork to go with each chapter for funsies which will be linked to my tumblr robynthemagpie. Starts off soft and fluffy then heats up along the way. Hope you enjoy and please let me know about additional tag requirements. All feedback welcomed!

**Part I: Sea Dreams and Heart Seams**

_ Well will you fill my head with stories _

_ 'Til I close my eyes and dream until the dawn. _

_ And when I'm sleeping tell me secrets _

_ Tell me things you've never told no one before. _

_ And when you wake up hiding nothing _

_ Maybe you'll know how it feels to be born. _

_ I could wake up feeling something for the first time in so long… _

_ ...Well I know it's late but let's go to the sea _

_ I know a way that is shorter. _

_ And we could sink out under the stars _

_ You can wear my woollen jumper. _

_ And we can sink out in to the stones _

_ you can lay upon my shoulder. _

_ And we could stay there all of the night _

_ While the moon rests on the water. _

_ -Moon On The Water, Passenger. _

  
  
  


'I'm just so, so tired.'

Fighting to stifle a yawn, Aziraphale tried to focus on Crowley's face in the gloom. The yellowish light from the street lamp outside filtered through the gaps in the brocade curtains, dimly outlining the demon where he lay sprawled across the chaise-lounge at the foot of the bed. He could not have looked more incongruous if he tried. He was all sharp edges and carefully-studied nonchalance. The bedroom was by contrast all fussy chintz, faded velvet, and Tiffany lamps.

Aziraphale stumbled towards his wardrobe on feet that were already sleeping, removing his waistcoat and loosening the bow-tie as he went.

'I can't believe we actually pulled it o-o-o-off...' he yawned.

'You're telling me,’ came the answering drawl. ‘By Satan, that Gabriel is one cold bastard, though... "I'm the Archangel Fucking Gabriel"... Pah! What a jerk! Just glad I didn't have the misfortune of knowing him when my wings were white. If I'd have known that was what you were dealing with all these years I would've...' his voice trailed off.

'You would've what? He's my boss, Crowley. I get into plenty of trouble by myself without any help from you, thank you very much,' Aziraphale shot back.

'Yeah, well, I don't know what I would've done, but I'm certain it would've earned me another commendation from Head Office,' Crowley finished.

'I know that you mean well but I think we should just be glad that we got through the last forty-eight hours. We should be trying to keep our heads down for a while, not stirring up more trouble. Oh, goodness, I'm too tired for this, I just want to go to bed.'

There was a strained silence. Aziraphale's attention caught, he turned back to look more closely at the demon, squinting into the gloom to focus on a face which he now saw was drawn and pale, concern etched deeply into those sharp eyes which were pointedly avoiding his own as the sunglasses were replaced over them. Something wasn't right. They were both on edge, but Crowley, now he examined him, looked bowstring-taut, reminding Aziraphale of the inner serpentine nature there, coiling tightly under the surface. Or was he seeing things? He was probably overthinking as usual, but he could sense the unease around his friend and felt the urge to make it better. Good deeds were his thing after all. 

'Of course, you're welcome to stay? For a nightcap at least? It's been a very difficult day. Incidentally, I must say it's exhausting being you. All that ridiculous hip waggling takes up an enormous amount of energy, no wonder you're so slim.'

Crowley's head snapped up. 'Hip waggling? What on earth are you talking about?'

'You know, the snake-sashay you do in those skin-tight jeans. Wretched uncomfortable things, might I add.'

'I do not "waggle"! There's nothing wrong with the way I walk. I learned from humans, it's perfectly normal.' 

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow but said no more. His corporeal shell was absolutely spent, yet he knew he would struggle to drift off, his mind sparking back and forth to relive the previous day, trying to decide if what they had done was enough and whether they could finally let their guard down and breathe. He knew his own expression likely mirrored Crowley's. That was probably the root of the demon's disquietude, and he hated to think of him worrying about  _ their _ problems all alone in that clinically tidy flat he kept. Despite his genuine concern for Crowley, deep down Aziraphale knew his motivations for keeping his friend here were at least partly self-serving. He couldn't help himself. He tried again.

'Look, please stay? Talk to me for a while, tell me something to take my mind off the madness we just went through. I'm going to lie down for a while- you can join me or stay there, and you can wander off home later if you so desire. Just stay for now. Stay until I fall asleep?' He couldn't keep the pleading note from his voice, and knew that Crowley had heard it too.

Damnation! He hated his lack of self control sometimes. Aziraphale ate too much, drank too much, owned too many books, and was always too weak to say no, preferring to say 'oh just one more then...' It was the same when it came to Crowley. He should have put a stop to it millennia ago, this 'Arrangement' of theirs, should have risen above and simply removed himself from the temptation of the demon's company. He had  _ tried _ to in the beginning. Then the decades had rolled on and it had been  _ nice _ to see a familiar face every once in a while. He had come to look forward to it, eventually even seeking out places where terrible things were happening on the off chance that he would find the demon there, the root cause of the chaos. He had been disappointed to discover that it was mostly just Normal Human Activity. It had worked out for him in France though, even if it had nearly lost him his head on the guillotine.

Crowley was always _ there  _ for him. Whenever he needed him, Aziraphale would look up and there he would be, the unlikely best friend, a companion through the ages. As always though, the angel wanted more. He knew that he had felt more than just friendship for Crowley for a long, long time. It was preposterous of course. An angel in love with a demon? Ha! What would Gabriel have to say about that one? It didn't bear thinking about and the consequences for both of them would be catastrophic. That was beside the fact that he was certain that his feelings were not reciprocated- what on Earth would Crowley ever see in him; he who had helped to craft the very stars themselves, what would he see in a washed up old angel who couldn't even keep proper order in his own Principality? Crowley was Fallen, yes... but only just. 

So Aziraphale didn't think about it. Not ever. Except for at moments like this, when he was almost feverish with tiredness, with scarcely enough energy to undress himself before bed. It was times like this when it would creep through and catch him unawares, and all he could do was hope that no one was paying enough attention to notice.

By way of answer, Crowley sat up straight(ish) and shrugged off his black leather jacket then threw it and his snake-skin boots into the corner before resuming his habitual slouch. Aziraphale tutted under his breath at this display but said nothing lest the demon change his mind and leave. His own shirt and trousers were laid gently over the back of an overstuffed armchair before he retrieved a pair of soft cotton pyjamas from a drawer and pulled them on gratefully. He turned back the heavy duvet and slipped under the covers.

'So you want a bedtime story, angel, is that it?' The low voice rising from the darkness was softer now, with an edge of mischief and, he noticed, less strain than Aziraphale had heard there for years. Something about the way Crowley said 'bedtime' made the angel's chest ache and he had to steady himself before answering.

'That would be lovely, Crowley. Tell me something that you've never told me before.' The angel leaned forward a little as he spoke, happy, despite his fatigue, to have his demon here for a while longer. No, not  _ his _ demon, he must stop thinking like that. He would say anything to make him stay though. The demon looked back at him, a strange expression twisting his sharp features for the briefest of moments before vanishing, his usual knowing look returning.

'Cocoa?' Crowley smirked.

'Ooo well...no, no I shouldn't, nevermind.'

There was a ringing in the air and the angel's winged mug sat on the bedside table, full of steaming liquid topped with three fluffy white marshmallows. Aziraphale was grateful for the weak lighting now as his cheeks began to flush with pleasure. How did Crowley know that he only liked the white ones? Contented with this parody of domestic bliss, he settled back against his downy pillows. The low rumble of car engines and the clattering noise of their tires on the cobbles drifted up from the street below as Aziraphale took a sip of his hot chocolate. It was perfect. The foot of the bed dipped a little as the demon relocated himself, lying out full-lengthed on his back, fingers knotted together behind his head, sunglasses still in situ as he stared up at the water-stained ceiling above them.

'Comfortable? Sorry, angel, I'm squishing your feet, hold on, better…? Right, so there was this one time when I was working with Atilla, you know the one I'm talking about, bit of a grump but alright once you got to know him? Well it wasn't long after the start of his first campaign...'

Aziraphale was exhausted. The soft bed, the warm cocoa, and the smooth voice of the person who made him feel safest in all the world were enough to carry him swiftly towards the waiting arms of Hypnos. He felt his eyelids weighing heavier and heavier, then could resist no more.

It wasn't just Hypnos who came for Aziraphale that night; his son Morpheus accompanied him too. The angel didn't dream very often- Aziraphale liked dreaming, but somehow it was something that he never got the hang of. He was dreaming now. You could tell because everything always seemed otherworldly, the light never as bright nor as dim as you would expect, sound coming from too far away or so close it made the air ring, the edges of object blurred or sharpened. It felt mystical. Aziraphale liked that.

The cool breeze on his cheeks was sticky and tickled as it ruffled the wisps of hair sitting just above his ears. The smell of salt and the sea was sharp and crisp and he took in a greedy lungful before exhaling again slowly, relishing the taste of it on his tongue. He could hear it too, waves rattling over pebbles, gurgling and clacking, dumping water over water with dull hollow booms. The angel turned towards the sound and saw the ocean a few steps away, stretching vast and unknown as far as even his eyes could see. Only now was he aware of his bare feet on the shaly beach, cool and ragged stones digging into the sensitive skin of his soles. It was darkening here too, the sun well below the horizon now with only the faintest glow of deep red staining the violet night sky where it met the ocean. It was so peaceful. 

He wasn't alone. He'd known that straight away, had some sense of it, and when he turned his head to the left he saw Crowley as he knew he would. Aziraphale may not dream often, but when he did his demon was always there. He was glad to be seeing this place with him, glad to steal these precious moments even if they would be gone with the daylight.

The demon was staring straight ahead out across the ocean, his eyes uncovered and his feet bare. Without looking, he reached out and took Aziraphale gently by the hand.

'Sit with me, angel?'

Aziraphale allowed himself to be led further up the beach, away from the shore and the waves that were now touching his toes, and sat down unhurriedly on the cool ground, not worrying about his clothing. Crowley joined him, their hands still clasped, and settled himself beside the angel. His face was soft, all of the tension of the real world smoothed away, his expression light. Neither said anything as the waves rolled in and out. It was enough to simply enjoy this moment of calm stretching out like the water before them.

'Angel, can I hold you?'

'Of course you can, my dear. Always.'

Aziraphale broke contact with Crowley's slim fingers and shuffled around until his head lay in the other's lap looking out toward the sea, allowing the familiar sinewy arms to fold themselves around him and hold him safe. Nothing else mattered, there was nothing in the world more important than this moment on this beach in the depths of a dream. Crowley smelled of warm skin, tobacco, and something bitter and metallic. It was similar enough to the real scent he anticipated from Crowley, and the angel took pleasure in sampling it with every breath, enjoying the way it intensified as his head warmed the demon’s lap. Aziraphale knew he would stay here on this sleep-beach for a lifetime if only Crowley would hold him like this. He dared not move or speak in case he break the spell, and in this distorted reality it was hours before Crowley finally spoke again.

'Do you still want me to tell you something I've never told you before?'

'Yes. Tell me something true.'

Night had gathered itself around them as they sat there on the shore, and in the absence of the moon, the stars were blazing brilliantly in the sky above them. Crowley looked up at them now as Aziraphale watched him, the gentle breeze stirring his hair like a flame caught in a draught. The dream-demon lifted one of his arms from across Aziraphale's chest and pointed up towards them.

'Do you see that one just there, angel? The one with a blue edge to it shining brighter than all the rest? Do you know what it's called?'

'I don't know that one, no. It's beautiful though.'

'I made that one. It's called Ziraph. I made it for you.'

Even in his dream state of semi-haziness the angel felt his heart suddenly leaping, pounding like a drum and drowning out the sea. His head buzzed and his voice cracked.

'For me?'

'For you. It's always been you, angel, from the very beginning, from the instant I became aware of your existence. The worst thing about losing Heaven was losing you. You are the brightest star in any sky and I have loved you for an eternity. I want to go on loving you for the rest of our lives. I had to show you. I needed you to know how loved you are.'

The drumming noise continued, a sweet pain was growing in his chest where his heart was trying to burst at the seams and break through his ribs. Aziraphale could find no words big enough to say what he needed to, so he held tightly to the demon and let the moment grow, filling the silence for him.

Warm, salty rain began to fall from the cloudless sky, and still they sat there on the shore, clinging to each other in a way Aziraphale had never before dreamed possible, like the last two beings in the world adrift in their own sea of emotions. The Sun rose and the rain fell, and still they stayed.

The lapping of the waves receded, the salt-smell vanished, the cool breeze left his cheeks. Aziraphale could feel something prickling at his eyelashes and in that moment he knew that the dream was over. Eyes still shut, he raised a shaking hand to his face and felt it wet with tears, his heart still pounding and swollen with the idea that Crowley might love him. It was cruel, so cruel of his overwrought mind to injure him like that. It was everything that he wished to hear and more, and it was gone. How hateful. Well, there was no use in dwelling in the land of dreams. He was alone, he always had been, and in all probability that was how he would remain.

The angel slowly opened his eyes and to his astonishment he found his head cradled softly in Crowley's lap, tears shining in the demon's unshaded eyes as he gazed down at him, love evident in every inch of his face. Aziraphale gasped.

'Oh, Crowley.'

'I know, angel, I know.'


	2. Part II: Kite Strings and Keyrings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They got away with it- just. But as Aziraphale and Crowley regroup in the aftermath of the Notpocalypse and their miraculous escapes in the Swap, for the first time in millennia they must now face up to their own- and each others- feelings. It starts, as it will end, with a dream...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie dokie folkies, welcome back for Part II of Moon On The Water. As with Part I, this chapter was inspired by some delightfully soft music from Passenger, so have a listen if you feel like it.  
We come back to Crowley this time, beginning with his version of the events in Part I, then moving on to what happens when Aziraphale wakes.  
The tags for this fic have now been updated so please check them if you are a returning reader- nothing too heavy yet. That'll be Part III. Let me know if I need to highlight anything else. Thank you very much to the lovely LurLur for helping me with the tags and general encouragement.
> 
> The accompanying podfic and artwork for this chapter are also available on AO3 and my tumblr robynthemagpie.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**Part II: Kite Strings and Keyrings**

_ Claps of thunder and bolts of lightning _

_ Wind comes howling through. _

_ Sometimes love is just a kite string _

_ And a heart-shaped tattoo. _

_ And holding on can be so frightening _

_ I know she’s frightened too. _

_ But I’ll go dancing out in the thunder and lightning _

_ If she will too. _

_ If she tells me she will too. _

_ -Thunder & Lightning, Passenger. _

  
  


_ Be my lighthouse shining _

_ Went out on the sea. _

_ Be my silver lining _

_ Be my golden key. _

_ I've had a life of climbing _

_ Don't let me fall from the trees. _

_ Be my lighthouse shining _

_ When I'm out on the sea. _

_ -Lanterns, Passenger. _

  
  


The sleep-drunk face below him was shining with the tears that had been falling from beneath closed lids for hours, and Crowley suddenly realised that he was struggling to focus because his own eyes were brimful too. Finally, at long last, they had both been brave enough to love each other. 

He knew he had cheated, playing with Aziraphale’s dreams like that, but he was a demon and demons didn’t play fair at the best of times, especially not when they were scared. No, not just scared,  _ terrified _ . What the Hell had they been playing at, duping The High Ups and The Down And Outs like that? Admittedly it had worked out alright, so what was there to worry about? Might as well ask what could go wrong if you stuck your head down a crocodile's throat. He didn’t know what yet, but Crowley was sure there would be some retribution eventually. The demon couldn't help feeling like another invisible countdown was hanging over their heads, different this time because it was just about him and the angel. They had showed their hand for everyone to see and declared openly that they were a 'them'. Being a 'them' was exactly what he wanted. But it was dangerous, so dangerous, and the only way he could see of making it through this was if they did it together. In the past, Crowley wouldn't have cared what that meant so long as he could keep his angel safe. Now though, for the first time in decades, he thought that it might finally be time to define what that meant. A window had opened and at last there might be something that he could do about his Problem. It was time.

Crowley’s Problem had started long ago, even before he Fell, and had only become worse as time moved forward. Popping into Eden for a quick temptation only to find The Angel Of His Dreams on gate duty had been the best thing to happen to the demon; subsequently learning that said angel would be sticking around on Earth for the foreseeable future as his Good counterpart was more than Crowley could ever have dreamed of. He imagined watching from afar, allowing himself the pleasure of lusting after the angel and labelling it as Suitably Bad Behaviour befitting a demon of his status. Yes, it had all been a small pension which he paid himself in the beginning. If you ignored the feelings. The Secret ones in the darkness that he never looked at. 

Then Aziraphale had started showing up more and more often. They had bumped into each other numerous times across the centuries, and every time it became harder and harder for the demon to watch his angel walk away from him. It was a Problem. It irritated him. He was a demon! He was a hard-faced bastard with fire in his veins and coal for a heart. He didn’t  _ do _ feelings. He liked spooky and sly, not smiling and soft. 

That was the lie though, wasn’t it. He lied to himself, pushed everything down deep and thus the Problem met the Secrets and together they took root and grew with the sort of enthusiasm he would’ve liked to see from some of his plants. It could never happen, and even if it could he knew it never would. Aziraphale was...well, Aziraphale was everything. It was as simple as that. He was frustrating and indecisive, he was obsessive and imprudent. Sometimes Crowley wasn’t sure whether it would be possible for the angel to shove that stick up his arse any further without it touching his tonsils. He was also the best thing Crowley had ever known in his entire existence, and the idea of being without him was terrifying.

Things were different now.  _ Everything _ was different now. They had faced the worst that either side had to offer, and stood their ground to stare it down and shout, ‘SCREW YOU!’ to both Heaven and Hell. They were on their own side now. What happened from now on was up to them to decide, which was liberating but also scarier than Hell. It was Free Will with roller skates and no crash helmet. What if Aziraphale didn’t want to be on their side? What if he didn’t see the need to keep meeting with Crowley any more now they had both quit the jobs which kept bringing them into contact? No, Crowley had thought to himself, watching the angel’s reflection undress and slip into his pyjamas using the age-spotted mirror in the corner. I think there might be a chance for us now. This is our moment if we are ever going to have one, and it might be embarrassing if he rejects me, but this is the time to tell him. It’s long past time. Crowley was many things, but he sure as Hell wasn’t a coward. Ask his Bentley, newly recovered from its Drive Of Fire. 

The demon had waited for Aziraphale to fall asleep, those long thick eyelashes fluttering against soft pillowy cheeks as his eyes moved beneath the lids, the dream beginning to weave itself around him. Then Crowley had opened his heart. He had done it as simply and truthfully as he could. He needed to tell it all, so he did. He gave Aziraphale the star which had been his since creation, then stood back and hoped. 

Aziraphale didn’t need to say anything; Crowley had seen the sleeping angel’s breathing hitch and catch, the pulse at his neck bound and leap, and the tears begin to flow down that freckled face. He had cradled Aziraphale to himself as he slept until dawn, stroked the soft downy curls that had been rumpled by the pillows, and waited for him to wake. 

‘Oh, Crowley.’

‘I know, angel, I know.’ Crowley showed a watery smile then, the best he could manage for now. 

Aziraphale reached up with one hand and cupped it gently against Crowley’s face, pushing it backwards through the hair at his temple until it rested behind the demon’s neck. Sky-blue eyes piercing into his amber ones, the angel half raised himself onto his other elbow and simultaneously pulled Crowley’s head down towards his own. Crowley couldn’t help looking at the plump, soft lips moving to meet his, remembering every single time he had imagined this moment and knowing that in none of them had he managed to fully captured that mouth, falling short of that exquisite curve, that pale vermillion stain, the perfect white teeth behind them. He realised that he had stopped breathing and that his heart was pounding faster than it had in his life. 

‘I love you, angel,’ He exhaled at last, and closed the distance between them, bending low over the semi-reposed figure in his lap. 

In the instant that his lips touched Aziraphale’s, Crowley felt like he had exploded into a thousand pieces of starlight, their mouths pressing to each other gently, tender and full of unspoken emotion. Aziraphale tasted of chocolate and smelled of dust and old-fashioned soap, just a hint of his favourite cologne still discernible in his warm sleepy musk. It was a heady mixture and Crowley deepened the kiss, wanting to lose himself in that mouth. He felt Aziraphale groan softly against his lips and a surge of desire hit his groin in response. He was kissing Aziraphale in earnest now, and the angel was meeting the demon in his desperate explorations, tongues meeting, tasting, eager for more. 

Crowley didn’t want to rush this, they needed to talk, to establish what  _ this _ was. A half-formed confession of undying love in a hijacked dream was hardly enough to explain himself, to explain everything that he had felt since he hung that star in the sky before there were even enough stars to tell time by. He needed Aziraphale to know it all. Every moment when he almost threw caution to the wind, every reason why he hadn’t. These rational thoughts flared briefly in Crowley’s mind before being obliterated by the fireworks dazzling him with every touch from the angel. Yearning flooded every fibre of his body, but the demon was still holding back, ready to stop at any moment. This was already more than he could have hoped for, would already leave him dizzy and panting. He had waited a lifetime to reach this moment, he could wait longer if he must.

At least, that was, until he felt Aziraphale’s perfect teeth graze against his lower lip, delicately gathering the fullness of the flesh between them and biting down slowly, sucking at the place where the teeth had been. It was sensational and unexpected. It was  _ hot. _ Grunting in surprise, Crowley suddenly found himself half-lifting the angel out of the covers to sit astride him on the bed, grunting again as Aziraphale’s backside landed against the zipper of his jeans, already straining eagerly. He looked into his angel’s eyes, searching for a sign that this was ok, and saw them burning back at him with the same heat he felt pooling in his own belly. Aziraphale looked magnificent, flushed and gasping, smiling into Crowley’s lips as they found each other again, reaching clumsily for the hem of the demon’s t-shirt and pulling it over his unresisting head. Crowley followed suit, undoing the top buttons of Aziraphale’s night-shirt before losing patience with it and tugging it hurriedly upwards, throwing it across the room in triumph. The angel had giggled at that, a pure and cherubic sound tinkling with a silver edge in the air, and it had filled Crowley’s heart with all of the love he had denied himself for centuries.

The happy bubble that had filled his chest since the angel woke was expanding once more. It was almost painful and he was overwhelmed by it. The love pouring from Aziraphale was something that Crowley had not felt since before his Fall. It wasn’t that he couldn’t feel love, it was that he was wont to overlook it as a demon. There was no chance of doing that now though. It warmed the air around them, and Crowley knew that it wasn’t only Aziraphale causing this flux of energy, it was him too. He had carried this secret for so long, tucked away in a place so deep that even he forgot where to find it sometimes, and now it was free. He felt lighter than...ever. He felt as though he could float away, soar out of the window into the morning air. He pushed his fingers deep into Aziraphale’s hair, anchoring himself to him, anchoring to the angel like a kite on a string. This love validated him, filling him up with bewildering joy and suddenly he felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes once more, breaking off to roll down his thin face. 

All of a sudden, Crowley felt self-conscious, stupid to be crying because he was happy. He was a demon. Demon’s behaved a certain way; it was hard-wired into his very being and what wasn’t there by nature had been drilled in by training. He wasn’t soft. Crowley tugged once more at Aziraphale’s hair, relishing the muffled moan of pleasure this elicited. He was a demon tempting an angel. No, wait, that wasn’t right, that wasn’t what he really felt. A frown crinkled Crowley’s brow as he pushed his thoughts aside, focusing on the sensations flooding over him: sweet breath on his neck; warm kisses on his collar bone; eager fingers digging into his back. He grasped at Aziraphale’s backside through the thin cotton of his trousers, pulling the angel down against his hardness again. Yes, he was in control of this, he had started it and he could stop it whenever he wanted, he didn’t need this. No! Satan, no, he would not deny himself this love any more. Why had he even denied himself to begin with? This was breathtaking. This was...transcendent. He had denied himself because he did not deserve it. He had denied himself because he had nothing to offer in return but a fistful of stars. He had denied himself because he was Fallen. He had denied himself because he would not put his angel in danger from any quarter. He had denied himself because he could not lose his angel again.

‘Crowley? My dearest one, what is it? Is it too much? We can stop, please, oh, Crowley?’ Aziraphale looked down at him from where he still sat astride the demon, his voice fearful and concern filling his bright eyes. Crowley didn’t know how or when it had happened; one moment he had been working his tongue inside that incredible mouth, and the next he had buried his head against Aziraphale’s neck and begun to cry. Silent waves of emotion crashed into him, heaving sobs racking his slim body as hot, wet tears rushed down his face. In all of his long life, Crowley had rarely cried and never like this. It was as though a long anticipated storm was finally breaking and there was nothing he could do but let it rain. He gasped and wept and shook with the force of it. His head was spinning and lights flashed in his eyes as he struggled to find firm ground to land upon. He clung to Aziraphale’s bare torso as though it were a life raft and he was a drowning man, the soft curve of those shoulders feeling like the only constant thing in the world, a lighthouse on the horizon to make for, a last hope of survival. He would rather have dashed himself upon the rocks with Aziraphale than have to drift forever without him. The angel had held him close then and wrapped the duvet around their shoulders until the worst of the tempest had died away. Crowley could not think; he was drained and confused and scared. A soothing voice had whispered heart-felt words to him again and again, asking no questions, just wrapping him in love. He had not resisted when Aziraphale gently pulled him down into his arms before enclosing them both in his luxurious white wings, stroking Crowley’s sweat-dampened hair until he fell asleep.

When Crowley finally woke up it was dark in the room, the dull glow of the streetlight bleeding into the space around him once more. He felt… better. The bed dipped and creaked as the figure in the darkness beside him rolled over with arms open, and Crowley gratefully sunk into Aziraphale’s welcoming embrace. He sighed, content, and went straight back to sleep.

The next time he woke up it was still dark and Crowley felt disoriented as he tried to sit sleepily.

‘Easy, my dear, take it slowly, you've been sleeping for hours. Here, have some orange juice, my love…’ A tingling noise chimed in the air and Aziraphale handed Crowley a glass of chilled liquid before sitting back in the bed to wait for the demon to drink it. It tasted divine. Freshly squeezed, if he was any judge of it. Once he had drained the glass and placed it on the bedside table, Crowley clicked on the lamp and turned to look at Aziraphale properly for the first time since that morning. 

The angel was looking at him with the air of one observing a baby deer who had just seen its mother being shot. Half sympathy, half concern for what might happen next. No, no, no, no. He wouldn't have his angel looking at him like that. Crowley needed to explain. He opened his mouth to begin, then Aziraphale held up a hand to stop him.

'My dear, before you tell me what happened earlier, and yes, I do need you to tell me as truthfully as you can, before that though may I say something?' He looked so earnest that Crowley silently nodded his assent and the angel continued. 'I want to apologise for my part in what happened. No, I don't regret it, not at all, but I do regret the timing. You had just opened up to me and shared things that I had never imagined could be true, and I'm afraid I got rather carried away with myself. I really did mean to talk, then suddenly all I wanted was to  _ show _ you how I felt. I still want to kiss you more than anything else right now, but I am ashamed of my lack of self-control and I wanted to relieve you of any burden you might be feeling over that.' Aziraphale paused for a moment before adding quietly, 'I can't believe that you made a star for me. I didn't know. It's beautiful, thank you. I am not worthy of it.' He finished then and sat waiting for Crowley to begin. 

Crowley reached out and took the angel's nearest hand in his own, bringing it gently to his lips and kissing it. He didn't know why he had done that but it felt right.

'Thanks, angel. But don't feel bad, never feel bad on my account. That's what I want to avoid, that's what sent my head spinning like a top earlier, wanting to keep you safe and happy. I promised myself years ago that I would never let anyone hurt you, that even if you were never truly mine I would keep you safe. That I would give you up if I had to so long as you were alright. Then I realised that what we did, what I did, putting our fingers up at whoever was going to come for us was probably the  _ worst _ thing I could've done for you. I've kept you camouflaged all these years and now I've coated you in neon and waved you around like a flag screaming “Wahoooo, look at the angel I'm willing to die for, come and get him!”. So that was a part of it. Then...it was...there was all of the…' Crowley ground to a halt, even now struggling to say what he must.

'Love?' Aziraphale had stepped in to save him again.

'Yeah. So much of it I thought I was going to explode. It was like I went from being blind to seeing in technicolour and it was magnificent but, shit, it was a lot. It’s been a long time since I felt anything like that, since before, you know, I fell. And the other stuff too, the…'

'Fornication?' 

Crowley couldn't help himself if the angel was going to say things like that. His voice cracked with laughter and his heart rose a few inches.

'Oh, angel! Yes, the fornication! That was absolutely incredible, really, I never imagined it would be so... _ wow _ . I’ve never felt anything like it before. It took me by surprise. So that's it I guess. That's me, one seriously fucked up demon at your service, I lay myself at your feet if you still want me?' He looked at Aziraphale again, trying to radiate cool and suave, knowing that he probably resembled that baby deer more than ever. The angel turned his body towards Crowley's and placed his free hand on top of their clasped ones where they still lay on the covers of the bed.

'My darling, muddled up demon, I will have you however I can for as long as I can. I know what you are, what I am, what the consequences might be. Seems to me that it's time that I stepped up to the plate, as those Americans would say, and started looking out for  _ you _ more often. You’re forgetting: they gave me a flaming sword,' His gaze darkened and drew itself like a bow over the quietened strings of Crowley’s desire, and he could feel them humming in his gut as Aziraphale went on, ‘And I know how to use it.’  _ Ngk. _ No more baby deer here. Crowley felt himself squirm involuntarily before the angel’s face cleared again, the familiar softness returning, and the humming moved upwards, resonating in the demon’s chest and warming him like a swallow of brandy. Aziraphale paused for a moment and seemed to be making a decision about something before continuing on. 'I would like to give you something, a small gift I’ve had sitting in a box up here for decades that I didn't have the nerve to pass on to you. I didn't know then...but I do now, and I'd like you to have it. It isn't a star, nothing as grand as that, but it is for you.'

The angel looked shy as he extracted his hands gently from around Crowley's and turned to his bedside table, rummaging around in the top drawer. Crowley wanted him to hurry up, he wanted to feel those hands in his own again. Having finally found what he was looking for, Aziraphale turned back towards the demon and held out a slim leather case. The edges were scuffed and in the warm lamp light Crowley could just make out a long-forgotten Goldsmith's name with the date  _ 1852 _ stamped on it.  _ More than just a few decades, _ Crowley thought to himself as he reached out to take it. It was about 20cm long and was narrow, and it felt light in his hands. Now he held it closer, Crowley could see that the leather near the clasp was worn matt and smooth, as though someone had been in the habit of opening the box to examine its contents frequently. He pushed in the small metal button and opened it now.

And gasped.

'Angel!'

On the pale tartan cushion inside sat what looked to be an ordinary front door key, like any you might find in the pockets of people who had front doors to open. Crowley knew without checking that this was a twin to the one that would be stowed safely in the pocket of Aziraphale’s waistcoat; he had seen him use it enough times to know the shape of it, the pattern of the notches. The key wasn't the cause of the demon's exclamation. No, it was the thing it was attached to that fixed Crowley's eyes wide in shocked awe. A simple split-ring had been fitted through the hole in the key, and on this was a perfect gold casting of a small, downy-edged feather. The craftsmanship was exquisite. He cradled it gently in his hands, afraid that he might crush the delicate barbs and wisps of after-feather, cupping it to stop it being caught on the wind and flying away. There was no doubting what this was.

'It's one of yours?' the demon said in a half-whisper.

'Yes, I had to get one the right size, was a bit tricky, as you know the small ones are tucked right under the joint, but I found it in the end… is it alright? The key I mean? It’s for the shop. I want you to feel like this is your home, that you can come here whenever you want, but I didn't want to presume too much before. Crowley? Oh dear, I've broken you again…'

Crowley stared wordlessly at the delicate gift as he turned it over in his hands. It was like a living thing, as though Aziraphale had plucked a feather of pure gold straight from his wing. It was shining brightly in his heart and he knew he was loved.

<https://robynthemagpie.tumblr.com/post/188085165243/part-ii-kite-strings-and-keyrings-accompanying>


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